Welcome to the poetry page of Helena Wolfe. Back issues of the literary magazine Children, Churches and Daddies also contain poems by Helena Wolfe.

Editors Choice award recipient

anyone good enough

i used to think that i was no good
that i was worthless that i meant nothing

and then i got a good job
and then i got me a ton of money

and then i looked in the mirror
and i realized i was gorgeous

and people laughed at my jokes
and people thought i was talented and strong

and now i look around me
and i can’t find anyone good enough

and i wonder if i expect too much
but i know for a fact that i deserve more

before i learned better

you’d think that the people that are most like you
are perfect for you
but if you find someone like that
and you’re dating someone like that
you’ll see
that they now have the same faults as you do
except their faults seem so much worse
and you want to kill them for the faults you have
and you want to crack their head open
and see their brains flowing out in the street

yeah, i know your mood swings, your hatred
your love of life and truth and fairness and art
and your anger
are all as strong as mine
but i’m still going to be hard on you
i’m still going to be hard on you
for being me
before i learned better

can’t answer that one

i have a better job than you
i have more talent than you
i’ve made more money than you

i’m attractive
i’m funny
i’m kind

i’m strong
i’m intelligent
i’m beautiful

and i look at what we had
and i wonder why i ever tried
and why i ever bothered

why did i ever put up with you
why did i think i needed you
why did i let you make me unhappy

with all my talent, with all my
i still can’t answer that one


don’t hate yourself
for the choices you’ve made
just make the right choices

i must believe

i’ve never had regrets before
i’ve never had any fears before
i’ve never been alone before

and now i wonder what i’ve done
and now i wonder where you’ve gone
and now i wonder if i’m dead

are you thinking of me right now?
can you feel me sliding under your skin
an injection coarsing down your vein?

i must believe you know i’m here


I’m alone
no one interrupts my senses

The food is bad
It is loud in here

silverware clashing
into the washbin
by the conveyor belt


something is doing
something wrong


You can hear it pour
rain falling

A light rain
marbles falling

mumblings of a crowd

lighter, and quieter

The metal
a loud echo

no regrets together

how else can I explain
sometimes I look into your eyes
and I see us in rocking chairs
on our porch
when we are old and gray
I see my future

and sometimes I see your face
and I think you’re a dispicable
useless defenseless human being
and I hate myself
for ever loving you

and I think
I have to stay away from you
I have to

I used to think
that everything would be wonderful for us
that we’d have our white picket fences
that we’d have no regrets together
that we’d love together
for always

and now I look at my life
and wonder what my future holds
and wonder what I’m doing
with him
with us

but I want you to understand
I want the world to understand
that although I’m afraid of my future
I have to live in the present
I have to feel needed
I have to feel loved
I have to look for my future somewhere

I have to do something
even though
some nights I dream of him
and some nights I dream of you

and I don’t have the answers anymore
somebody help me
oh, somebody help me

only a year

you know, it world be easier
if someone came along
someone new altogether
and swept me off my feet

someone tall, really tall,
and boyishly handsome,
and someone with way too much
and someone who was strong,
and romantic

someone I shouldn’t even be
thinking about,
because he doesn’t exist

I feel like a character in a novel
who sees the protagonist
and thinks that they’re just too good
and can’t be real

I’m the only one that’s real
and my biological clock is ticking
and I’ve got a year to decide
only a year

and there’s so much I want to do
and there’s so much I want to say
and there’s so much I want to feel
and all I feel is lost

and I’m in a room full of people
and all I feel is alone

and I’ve only got a year
and the seconds are ticking away
and I can’t even think
of making a decision
and I can’t decide
how my life should unfold

will someone wait
for me

will anyone wait

for me


compressed powder

a factory
how temporary it is

It’s destroyed

a wheat field after a rainstorm
wet paper


you’ve killed me with your words
we’ve ended it many times
and now you call me back
saying that you want me in your life
and that you don’t see me as just a friend
(well you better not, since you fucked me) -
and that you don’t want to throw away
what we have been building
(and what were we building when you
dumped me?)
and that you’re praying to your
god that i’ll take your calls
and that you’ve been crying your eyes out
and that you hope that makes me feel better
well, it does, my friend
and it’s my turn now
and i’m going to put you through hell
because you’ve done it to me,
and come to think of it,
you’re not my friend
and no one hurts me like this
and comes out of it unscathed

Helena Wolfe is a waitress in Chicago, and a writer by day. She is divorced and has a baby daughter. Wolfe has been writing poetry for over fifteen years.

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use what you had
i’ve never had regrets
but i keep wondering
why i gave up what i had
for you, to be with you

if all you were going to do
was fuck me over
and then put me out on
the line to dry

i keep thinking of all the
hell i went through
with the last guy, but at
least he wanted me,

at least he had a big dick
and could get me off
(i’ve wanted to tell you
you had a small cock,

and you didn’t even know how
to use what you had, but then
again, you’ve never been in a
relationship for more than two

months, how could you ever
learn how to satisfy a woman,
you cock-sucker?) and although
my past relationship was still

dysfunctional at least he
wanted to make that committment
with me, and i threw that
away so that i could go

on this stupid roller-
coaster with you, the man who
offered me in some ways no
more than and in some ways even

less than my ex, so that you
could then after all this crap
throw me away like i am some
sort of piece of trash that was

a little too big for the garbage
disposal but needed to be removed
nonetheless. oh, and i just
keep thinking that it’s so ironic

that i was looking for something
more and all i could get was a
bunch of nothing and i hate you
but at least i know now that

you have a really small cock, and
that you don’t even know how to
use it, and that you have to live with
that. that you’re stuck with that.